


Our Fates Eclipsed

by Adassai



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Smut, F/M, High Fantasy, Internalized Homophobia, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Male Homosexuality, Shapeshifting, Slow Romance, Soul Bond, Telepathic Bond, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adassai/pseuds/Adassai
Summary: Lorian spent his childhood dreaming of one day joining the illustrious Light Guard- a division of his country's military which fights the forces of darkness astride their unicorn mounts. Each unicorn is bonded for life to his rider- a bond that Lorian learns frequently runs much deeper than mere comraderie. After years of tireless work, Lorian has finally been accepted as a recruit for the Light Guard, and the time comes for a unicorn to choose him. But much to the dismay of both Lorian and the Light Guard, for the first time in recorded history, the mythical creature that chooses Lorian is jet black and, even more concerning to him, male. Will his unicorns shadowy coat be a dark portent or a fated destiny? And can Lorian overcome his trepidations of forging a life-long bond with another man?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This will be my first story here and the first story I have posted online in a very long time; I've taken a long hiatus from writing after several years of struggling to find motivation, and I'm hoping to have the resolve to see this story through to the end. I would love any feedback or comments, as long as they are constructive and civil. Hoping someone will find this enjoyable!

Despite the heat of the summer day, the night was eerily cool, as if the fading sun had sucked away its last remaining warmth. Around him, his peers formed a loose-knit cluster, traveling in a solemn pack through the tall grasslands that stretched to the south of their home. Looking at their faces, he could see his apprehension mirrored; they were tight-lipped, jaws clenched, eyes straining to remain ahead but nonetheless flickering with apprehension between their peers and the distant tree line. The forest ahead of them was unnaturally dark, like a wall of shadows that loomed above them as they trudged forward.

 

By the time they reached the forest's edge, the moisture in the grass had soaked through the fabric of their pants, making it cling to their legs. While from afar the trees had seemed impenetrable, now that they could make out individual branches, they could see that a narrow path cut clear ahead of them, winding between the thick trunks. For a moment, they all lingered, but Lorian's impatience quickly overpowered his trepidations, and he led the group as he marched forward, grass becoming dirt and open plains yielding to the thick woods.

 

The crickets continued to chirp around them, but now the soft rustle of grass was replaced by the deeper groan of swaying branches. Lorian's heart was pounding like a fist on his ribcage, and every time a twig snapped behind him or a leaf fluttered by his head, it beat with a renewed fervor. In reality, he knew that there was little danger to be found in these woods; so close to High Castle and so often patrolled by the Light Guard, the only creatures that lived here were mundane, none tainted by darkness or malice or bloodlust.

 

The path through the forest took Lorian a half hour to traverse; he could hear his comrades following behind him, but his burgeoning nerves kept his eyes straight ahead now as the trees suddenly gave way, revealing another open valley. Forest surrounded the wide grassland, but at the center of the opening was a strange, eerie sight. Weathered stones erupted from the earth, tall and erect, as if reaching toward the stars above. They formed a perfect circle, and the space at their center was bare, supporting only dirt. Nonetheless, he could feel a power emanating from within, invisible but pulsing toward him, drawing him forward.

 

He left the forest's edge, and now that they were cleared of its darkness and had a wider path to traverse, Lorian and his classmates again formed an amorphous group as they descended to the stone monoliths. As their teachers had instructed them, they stepped between the standing boulders, standing an arms width apart from one another at the center of the circle. In silence, they stood and waited.

 

As the minutes stretched by, Lorian's feet beginning to ache, and his nervousness transformed into fear. Their instructors hadn't said anything about having to wait. Had something gone wrong? Were their mounts not going to appear? Had the forest, once peaceful and safe, given way to dangerous creatures that had slain their future partners? Worse yet, an insidious worry snaked its way through his consciousness. Maybe in all his eagerness to become a member of the Light Guard, Lorian had never stopped to doubt whether he was worthy at all for the honour. Perhaps the unicorns sensed an inexplicable taint to his person, an unworthiness that kept the mythical creatures from presenting themselves to the gathered students.

 

Just as the fear threatened to turn into panic, movement appeared at the forest's edge to their North. Out from the shadows stepped a silver light- no, it was a grey muzzle, its coat casting off the moon's glow. The rest of her followed, a slender filly emerging into the field. A moment later, the others followed, a dozen unicorns revealing themselves and beginning a slow amble toward the stone circle. Even from a distance, Lorian could tell they were young- still growing into their long legs, and while the stallions and mares of the Light Guard were pure white, this young herd appeared in coats of varying shades of light grey. Except for one.

 

At first, Lorian had thought that he was seeing one of the unicorn's shadow, but even in the bright moonlight, there was no way for such darkness to be cast. Eyes growing wide, he realized that a small colt was the last to emerge from the woods, his coat dark as coal. All unicorns were born black, and as they grew into maturity, they would slowly lighten; at the age of 3, only a few had even a hint of colour left. But the only lightness coming from the colt's coat was the reflection from the moon.

 

He looked around at this peers again, and their eyes were also straying toward one another. Everyone seemed to glancing among the six girls of the group, an unspoken question of who amongst them was fated to be chosen by this strange, dark unicorn. Though everyone was on edge, the girls now looked especially apprehensive. None of them had heard of such a thing, and they all feared its implications.

 

The first filly that had emerged was now at the edge of the stone circle; she had a boldness about her that was undeniable as she crossed the border without hesitation, eyes bright in the darkness. She was also, by far, the largest of the herd, and even in her youth, she was well muscled, her proportions more like a horse than a foal. Lorian watched her eagerly, entranced by her bold nature. For a moment, she turned towards him, heading his way, and his heart jumped into his throat. But at the last minute, she altered her path, walking right by him, the only contact he received the sharp sting of her tail as it flicked against his arm. Disappointed but not discouraged, Lorian looked out again to the remaining herd, who were also now beginning to encroach into their space.

 

His eyes flicked from mare to mare; none were as bold as their sister, meandering slowly around the human group, their nostrils flaring as they inspected- first from afar and then slowly closer. From behind him, Lorian felt a hot breath on the palm of his hand, and excitement burst through him with such intensity he almost turned around to reach out to the filly he could sense at his back, but he clumsily shoved the desire down, forcing himself to wait. But the wait was for naught, as the warmth left his skin, and he heard the sound of hooves on soft soil padding away.

 

The old insecurities were starting to rise again. He had counted the number of unicorns that had emerged- thirteen, just like the number of humans that currently stood in the field- but Lorian feared that somehow, he would be overlooked, that one of the fillies would decide she would rather return to the forest than endure his presence. His fists gripped tight, jaw thrusting forward, telling himself to ignore the ludicrous fear even as his fingers trembled.

 

Last of them all, the black stallion was now passing into the stone circle. Even though Lorian tried to ignore him, it was difficult not to notice that he was especially small; his legs seemed almost too thin to support his body, and his nose had a soft concavity to it like that of an arabian horse. As much as Lorian tried to put the colt out of his mind, his strange appearance was unnerving.

 

All at once, Lorian was aware of many eyes on him, their collective weight sitting heavy on his shoulders. His head flicked back and forth, gaze thrown over his shoulder to find that all twelve of his peers were now staring at him. His stomach churned and then dropped. All of his classmates had their hand outstretched, touching a beautiful grey unicorn who stood close to their side, nuzzling into their shoulder or arm or chest. Only he stood alone.

 

Something bumped into his stomach, hard enough that it knocked some of his breath from his lungs. His neck snapped back in front of him, suddenly met with a dark abyss. No, it was just the colt, his lowered muzzle pressed against Lorian’s navel.

 

For a moment, it was like Lorian's brain had stopped working. He was staring, frozen in place, the cogs of his minds desperately trying to churn. The colt stared up at him, large eyes waiting, and despite his small stature, there was a fire that burned behind them.

 

Maybe he'd been mistaken, Lorian thought. He ducked down, feeling rude as he peered around between the unicorn's legs. No, the unicorn was definitely male.

 

For once in his life feeling hesitant, Lorian again looked to his classmates. Traena and Kova were no longer paying attention to the outside world, the girls tunneling their focus to their respective colt, their hands exploring soft, white coats. The ten other riders were still staring intently at him, their expressions a mix of surprise, confusion, or concern- everyone except for Rylan, who was watching Lorian with a cruel mirth, his lips pulled into a mocking grin, eyes laughing at the ludicrousness of the situation. With a surge of jealousy, Lorian realized that Rylan's hand was stroking along the neck of the first mare, her powerful body leaning into his touch.

 

Lorian turned back to the black colt in front of him, whose eyes still stared up with an unreadable, torrid emotion. Lorian took a deep breath, jaw clenching. This wasn't how he had imagined this night going, but he had spent years dreaming of this moment. He had spent every waking hour striving to get here, to be ready for this path and this commitment; Lorian wouldn't let anything or anyone take that away from him.

 

He reached a hand out, slowly, until his fingers brushed at the soft fuzz at the end of the colt’s nose. The moment they touched, he felt energy surge up through his fingers, like the essence of light itself was bursting through his veins. His eyes widened, staring deeply into the dark well of the black unicorn's gaze. For a moment, it was as if he could feel the other as well as he could his own body; he could feel four hooves rooted to the ground, the soft swish of his tail on his hocks, the arch of his neck as he leaned toward a human hand, and underneath it all, fear, frustration, and a burning desire to prove himself.

 

" _ Killian _ ."

 

The name rung like a bell in the confines of his mind, and he knew it instantly as the dark colt’s name.

 

" _ Lorian _ " he responded, though his lips never parted.

 

Though the cue was unspoken, now that everyone had been chosen, the newly formed pairs moved out of the stone circle, back towards the northern woods. Killian turned to follow, his dark coat casting off bright moonlight as he moved. Unwilling to let his hand leave the comfort of the unicorn’s side, Lorian’s fingers found register in Killian’s mane; the hair in which he buried his fingers was thick but also incredibly soft.

 

Once leading his group's procession, Lorian now followed behind the others as they returned back to the forest trail. As strange as things had turned, Lorian couldn't suppress his excitement. The warm body of the colt, though small, was beautiful; slender and sleek and incredibly warm beneath his touch. Even his dark coat had an otherworldly beauty to it. In that moment, swimming with triumph, he had forgotten that the unicorn that strode beside him was a colt or that his coat was an unnatural hue. Lorian thought he was stunning all the same.

 

The walk through the forest went by much quicker this time, and the air seemed no longer so silenced, now ringing with excitement, the soft blow of horse breath, and gentle brushing of hands along unicorn coats. They emerged back out into the main field, and High Castle shone in the distance, the white stone of the castle walls seeming to glow like the moon itself. The herd, both human and unicorn, passed beneath the open arches that welcomed them into the stronghold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to quickly type out Chapter 2. I've been really excited about writing this story, so I'm trying to just keep my fngers moving while I still have the motivation churning inside me. I'm hoping that I can get a new chapter out every few days, but for right now, I don't have a definitive posting schedule. If you're reading, please feel free to comment any of your thoughts. Thanks!

Lorian had been a child the first time he saw a unicorn. His youth had, up until his eleventh year, been uneventful. He lived in an inconsequential village on the outskirts of the territory- where the Light Guard and their mounts had little reason to visit. The town was largely self-sufficient, and the handful of travelers that trickled through only had interest in the village’s single inn as a brief respite before they crossed the border into neighboring Tengol. They were a people of little drama, scarce crime, and so Lorian’s earliest memories were marked by a pervasive sense of ease and safety.

 

His father was the owner of the inn, and his mother was the town’s governor, responsible for mediating relations between the villagers and the bureaucracy of the far away capital, High Castle.

 

It was for this reason that a young Lorian became privy to the knowledge that one of the villager’s had gone missing. He had been sitting in his mother’s office, which was actually just a converted room at the inn that housed a desk and a wall of bookshelves filled with a plethora of leather-bound tomes. Unlike most of the town’s children, who spent their days working alongside their families in the fields or laboring in their father or mother’s shop, Lorian’s mother had been determined to give him a thorough education. So it was here that he spent most of his afternoons, combing through the volumes of books that his mother deemed important for his education.

 

Lorian’s head jerked up from the book balanced on his lap as the loud sound of rushed footsteps barreled up the steps leading to the second floor, and a moment later, the door to his mother’s office flew open, revealing a flustered woman clinging to the doorway. Her eyes were wide, forehead reflective with the sheen of sweet. His mother instantly leapt to her feet.

 

“Clara,” the woman gasped as she addressed his mother. “Something’s taken Jarn.”

 

Lorian had recognized the name as one of the boys in town who was near his own age. Though they infrequently found the spare time to play, he nonetheless recalled a few instances where the day’s labor had been short, and Lorian and several of the boys, including Jarn, had taken to exploring the nearby forest, splashing in the stream the snaked through the trees not far from the town’s edge.

 

Without hesitation, his mother strode out from behind her desk and moved closer to the woman, a hand finding a firm register on her shoulder.

 

“Did you see it happen?” she asked.

 

The woman’s head shook.

 

“No, he was gone from his bed when I went to wake him. There is…” The woman’s voice wavered, taking on a note of terror mixed with despair. “Blood on his pillow.”

 

“Show me,” his mother demanded, the hand on the other woman’s shoulder turning her about as she ushered them both back down the stairs.

 

“Lorian, stay here,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared from the doorway.

 

But of course, Lorian had never been inclined toward complete obedience, and his curiosity overthrew his concerns of a later punishment. Though he kept a comfortable distance from the pair, he followed as they wove through the town, past the lanes of shops and toward the homes that bordered the town’s many fields. Outside one of the homes, a small crowd of adults had congregated, their heads hung low and the air about them teeming with confusion and fear.

 

As they approached, the crowd parted. One of the men in the group was visibly shaken, his eyes swollen and puffy with tears; Lorian had the vague memory of him being Jarn’s father.

 

Led back to the childrens’ shared bedroom, Lorian felt his head spin as he peered inside. The smell of blood had hit him before the sight, but now as his eyes settled to the bed farthest from the door, it was an unmistakable picture- bright red screaming out from an otherwise grey room.

 

The bed was was underneath a window, the glass broken and littered across the upturned sheets. The blood seeped into the pillow by the headboard.

 

Lorian’s mother stood near the bed, leaning over to examine it.

 

“None of the other children saw what happened?” she asked as she pulled the sheets back.

 

Jarn’s mother stood at the foot of the bed, her fingers tangling into the apron she wore.

 

“No, they said they slept soundly through the night, and the room was like this when they woke,” the woman replied.

 

A disapproving sound came from his mother’s lips. Underneath the pulled back sheets, metal glinted in the morning light. As she picked it up, Lorian recognized the tool as a pair of pliers, though the the nut that held the metal together at its joint was broken so that the two parts were separated, rendering it useless.

 

“Toothfairies,” his mother murmured darkly beneath her breath.

 

Though Lorian didn’t know what she meant at the time, a shiver nonetheless rippled up his spine.

 

Jarn’s body was never found, but a funeral was held the following day. Following the discovery of his kidnapping, for the first time in Lorian’s life, a palpable unease had fallen on the village. Doors whose locks had rusted from disuse found themselves reinforced. The adults of the town all volunteered to take up guard shifts throughout the night. Though the adults didn’t tell the other children the nature of the threat, even the youngest understood the gravity of their parent’s warning- Don’t go outside without an adult.

 

The day of Jarn’s disappearance, his mother had penned a hasty letter to the capital; Lorian had watched her scribbling furiously at her desk before handing the note to Eilis, the man who owned the town’s stablery and the town’s fastest horse. The swiftest Lorian had ever seen on the back of a horse, Eilis had barreled away from the town with instructions to head toward Weston, the closest city, where the letter would be transferred to carrier pigeon for a speedy delivery to High Castle.

 

A week went by, and though no more children had been abducted, one attempt had been made that left one of the volunteer guards missing his two front teeth. Trailing behind his mother despite her warnings to remain inside, Lorian had managed to catch a glimpse of the culprit, whose flattened body had been left underneath the window it was trying to invade. It was a little over a foot tall, with a vaguely humanoid body wrapped in mottled blue skin. Its head was squat and fat with large tattered ears and a mouth that spanned the entirety of its face. The creature’s smile was a horrifying collection of teeth of varying sizes and colors, some from animals but most clearly from tiny human mouths.

 

The town’s priest said a blessing over its corpse, not to wish it any luck in traversing its afterlife but to seal away the evil that lurked in its soul, to keep it from spreading even while its body withered. At the far edge of town, its body was burned and its ashes buried.

 

The following day, his mother awoke early to welcome a newcomer to town. This time, she did not instruct him to stay away, though she didn’t ask him to follow either. Lorian stuck close to his mother’s side as she left the inn and headed toward the East side of town along its main road. With the rising sun at his back, Lorian’s eyes strained to see the welcomed traveler, and from afar, he could only discern the shape a lone man astride his horse, leaving Lorian perplexed as to the importance of his arrival. Then he noticed the gleaming white of the mount’s coat, almost blinding in the glory of sunrise, and finally, the two foot of horn that erupted from the center of the creature’s forehead.

 

It was a beast of unrivaled beauty, strong muscles rippling beneath a shining coat. In stark contrast, the white horn on its head looked deadly sharp, clearly a weapon instead of ornamentation. Silently, it spoke of bloody battles and the death it doled.

 

When the unicorn reached Lorian and his mother, the man on her back dismounted. Lorian only now noticed that the unicorn wore no bridle or saddle, its body unmarred by the trappings of man.

 

The rider, a tall man with broad shoulders and a strong jaw, extended a hand to his mother. Like his mount, his hair glistened with sunlight, so blonde it was almost white. He couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties, but there was a stern glint in his blue eyes that belied maturity. Between the unicorn and the man, Lorian wasn’t sure which he found more beautiful.

 

“Sir Levi Demarcus,” he introduced himself with a voice warm and thick like honey. “Accompanied by Litya.”

 

His hand, removing itself after giving my mother’s a firm shake, reached out to stroke along the neck of the unicorn. Much to Lorian’s surprise, the mare’s head dipped as if in a bow.

 

“We’re here to take care of your Toothfairy problem.”

 

\-----------

 

Passing through the archway, the group once again found themselves in the courtyard of the Light Guard’s stronghold- the place which had been their home and training grounds for the last three years. Though the time was past midnight, the courtyard was bathed in a soft blue light cast from the glowing orbs that were perched on pillars around the gardens. At the center of the clearing, an enormous marble statue of a unicorn and an androgynous rider stood with quiet dignity, peering out over them.

 

Thirteen unicorns and thirteen humans paused just past the entrance. In front of the crowd, Lorian could see Lady Alta, her weathered hands clasped in front of her, a warm, waiting smile on her lips. At her side was Gailob, a stallion whose age showed in the deep depressions above his eyes and the gentle arch that had crept into his back.

 

“Welcome back, Initiates,” she called, her voice light and clear.

 

There was a collective shiver of excitement in the group, and Lorian felt pride swelling in his chest. When he and his twelve classmates had left little over an hour ago, they had been Recruits. They had all worked tirelessly since they were admitted into the Light Guard Academy, but despite the hours of lectures, tests, combat training, and riding lessons, there status had always been tentative; only now, with a unicorn at their side, were they official Knights of the Light Guard, befit to hold the title of the first rank- Initiate.

 

“I’m sure you’re very eager to get to know one another better,” she continued. “But you will have the rest of your lives for that. In the meantime, Gailob will be introducing your Steeds to High Castle and getting them acquainted. The rest of you may return to your barracks.”

 

For a moment, no one moved. The high on which Lorian had been riding plummeted like a stone thrown into a lake. His fingers tightened in Killian’s mane as his eyes once again scoured the unicorn’s body. Strange though he appeared, Lorian thought Killian was stunning beyond reason. He was fascinated by the long lines of his legs, the gentle curve of his neck, the nervous twitch of his soft ears, and the deep glow of his black eyes. Though Lorian knew the hour was late, he wanted so desperately to start training at this very moment; he’d never been on top of a unicorn, and the anticipation gnawed into his stomach because he wouldn’t just be riding on a unicorn, it’d be on  _ his _ unicorn.

 

Killian leaned into him, his nose gently bumping into Lorian’s side; even just the small touch sent a shock of electric excitement through him. As desperately as he wanted to hop onto Killian’s back and ride out into the woods until his body was soaked with sweat and exhaustion overtook him, Lorian knew he had to resign to Lady Alta’s instructions. Killian already seemed content to follow her words, as with a last touch from his nose, the dark colt pulled away and followed the other unicorns, which were removing themselves from the human crowd and walking toward the old stallion, Gailob.

 

All sending forlorn looks back at their retreating mounts, Lorian and his classmates began a slow shuffle back to the barracks.

 

Lorian paused one moment longer to watch Killian, the colt following his brothers and sisters as they congregated around Gailob. All at once, the air around him turned to ice, and Lorian noticed with alarm that Lady Alta had only just now spotted the small unicorn from behind the rest of the herd. Her eyes were wide, face growing pale. With a frantic gaze, Lady Alta turned to face the retreating Initiates. Their eyes locked.

 

Suddenly, Lady Alta’s eyes softened, her composed smile once again stretching serenely across her face, though Lorian couldn’t help but noticed that the whiteness of her face was being replaced by a blush that was evident even in the darkness.

 

“Nothing to worry about, Lorian,” she spoke soothingly. “Return to your barracks.”

 

His worries only partially placated, Lorian complied, trotting to catch up with his classmates. This time, he did not look back behind him; he feared if he did, he wouldn’t be able to tear himself away again.

 

The barracks was comprised of a small building at the very edge of the walls that surrounded High Castle. The building itself seemed like an afterthought in construction, shoved in between a mess hall and a medical bay. It featured only a few small windows, too high off the ground to peer through. Inside were several rows of identical wooden bunkbeds. A single trunk for personal effects sat at the end of each, but otherwise they were barren of decoration or personality.

 

No one bothered with the effort of turning on the lights, as they moved through the space with the aid of moonlight and muscle memory.

 

Lorian felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and he turned to find Kova at his side. Even in the darkness, he recognized her round face, her eyes which always seemed a little too big for her face, and her small, cupid-bow lips.

 

“Last night in the barracks,” she whispered eagerly, fingers tightening on Lorian’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, hard to believe,” he replied, leaning into her touch.

 

Kova was the closest that Lorian had to a friend amongst the group. Like himself, Kova came from a small town without any importance to the kingdom; they were both considered “country people”, though neither of them had lifted a hoe or sowed a field in their life. Many of their classmates had come from the capital itself, and many were following the footsteps of their parents, continuing the long lineage of Light Guards in their family. As such, Kova and Lorian had never been able to escape the feeling of being outsiders, though they’d found a quiet solidarity in one another.

 

They stood silently for a moment, staring into the darkness, savoring the experience of quiet as they locked the interior of the barracks into their memories.

 

“Well, better get some rest,” Kova finally said, giving his shoulder a last squeeze before moving to the other side of the room where she shared a bunk with Traena.

 

With a resolved sigh, Lorian returned to his own bunk. The trunk at the foot of the bed was already open, and Rylan was rummaging through the left side. Lorian followed silently, grabbing a fresh pair of pajama pants into which to change. He turned his back to his roomate as he stripped out of his pants, the bottoms still wet with grass dew.

 

“Seems like you got the short end of the stick again.”

 

Lorian winced at the sneering tone of Rylan’s voice, like a sharp whip on his back. He shoved his legs into the pajamas, pulling them up to his waist and knotting them tightly.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lorian replied darkly, not bothering to meet Rylan’s gaze as he began to hoist himself up to the top bunk.

 

“Come on, you saw Dali,” Rylan continued, his voice slightly muffled now as the sound came directly beneath Lorian as his vexatious roommate crawled into the bed below him. 

 

Lorian assumed that Dali was the name of the bold mare that had lead the herd. Much to Lorian’s dismay, he had to admit that the filly was beautiful, the textbook definition of perfect form with a high-set neck, an open shoulder, short back, and powerful hind legs that swept far underneath her with every step. He’d been disappointed when she’d wondered past him without a second glance, and Lorian rubbed absently at the place on his forearm where the harsh bristles of her tail had struck.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with Killian,” Lorian fired back, words sharp on his tongue.

 

But even as he spoke the words, worry was creeping through his mind, its long tendrils pulling apart his confidence. Lorian didn’t know whether something was  _ wrong _ with Killian, but he knew that something was different, and that alone was enough to feed the monster of doubt possessing him.

 

“He just looks a bit different.”

 

A short guffaw erupted beneath him, and the corresponding creaks from the adjacent bunk beds told Lorian that it was loud enough to disturb even the other Initiates in the room.

 

“You got chosen by a  _ colt _ , Lorian?” Rylan mocked. “Talk about embarrassing.”

 

Lorian couldn’t see Rylan’s face, but he could imagine the wicked sneer twisting over his lips, the sharp glint of mockery in his eyes. Anger boiled hot beneath his skin.

 

“I don’t care,” Lorian snapped. “Just shut up and let me sleep.”

 

But as Lorian wrapped his blankets tight around him, curling his body around his stomach, he knew that was he said was a lie. He did care. It was impossible not to notice the way that Steed and Knight looked at one another. No one had said it in any amount of words, but it was an affection that was difficult to ignore. After his first few weeks at High Castle, he had begun to notice the way that the Light Guards interacted with their bonded unicorn- the way they walked so close to one another, the loving manner in which they spoke, the surreptitious glances they cast beneath hooded eyes. After weeks of deliberation, Lorian could only conclude that there was a reason that Steed and Knight were always the opposite sex and always shared a private room.

 

The thought brought burning shame into Lorian’s cheeks. He hadn’t minded the idea of such a bond when he had imagined a beautiful woman by his side for the remainder of his life- fighting alongside her during the day and sleeping beside her at night. But now that the image of a woman- soft-faced, full-lipped, long hair cascading around her face- was replaced by a man, Lorian wasn’t so sure that this was the life he had wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this chapter was a doozy to get through. I had initially finished this chapter the day after I finished the second, but then while I was editing my first draft, I realized that I absolutely hated it. So I had to rewrite the whole thing. Now, it's 4 AM, but I finally feel that the chapter is at least publishable, though I still am not entirely satisfied.
> 
> To anyone reading, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts and criticisms. Thanks!

After Sir Levi Demarcus introduced himself to Lorian’s mother, he extended a hand down to the eleven-year old boy. Lorian instantly felt a heat come over his cheeks as he slid a timid hand into the Knights’. The man’s hands seemed massive compared to his own, and his palms and fingers were rough and calloused. Despite this, his grasp was gentle.

 

He felt his mother give his back a small push, reprimanding his manners.

 

“My name is Lorian Ecklestia,” he offered, the words feeling too thick and his tongue too clumsy.

 

“It’s a pleasure, Lorian,” Sir Levi replied warmly, and though the smile on his lips was affable, there was a perennial gravity to his eyes that reminded Lorian that the man was not here for pleasure.

 

The Knight returned his attention to Lorian’s mother.

 

“Please, if you would, tell me all you know about the attacks.”

 

His mother nodded as she began to relay the details of the first attack- the broken pliers on the bed, the blood on the pillow, the shattered window. As she spoke, she motioned for Sir Levi to follow her, and all four of them, including the white unicorn, began the walk back toward the inn, which marked the center of town. Lorian was only vaguely aware of the conversation happening between the two adults; he couldn’t keep his eyes off Litya.

 

He had seen many horses before; Eilis, the Stablemaster, had a dozen that he kept for varying purposes- from renting to hauling to plowing fields. Though Litya had the same shape as a horse, she was a distinctively different species, radiating with light and intelligence. She strode beside her Knight with careful confidence, deftly maneuvering the streets of the town, ears flitting forward and back as she surveyed her surroundings. Though apprehensive of the repercussions, Lorian found his hand extending of its own volition, fingers traversing the silky coat on the mare’s flank. The mare’s belly quivered as she whickered; her head swung back until her prehensile upper lip waggled across his fingers.

 

By the time they all arrived at the inn, Lorian’s mother had finished relaying to Sir Levi all that she knew, and the Knight assured her that the information was plenty; he could probably have them eradicated from forest within two nights.

 

“We have an open room at the inn for you,” his mother offered. “No charge, of course. And we can have the Stablemaster arrange a stall for your mount.”

 

Sir Levi chuckled.

 

“Thank you, but the room at the inn will be plenty. Litya won’t tolerate a stable,” he assured, voice mirthful as if what he said was a joke to which only he was privy.

 

His mother nodded. With his rooming situation settled, Sir Levi announced that he would be taking to the forest and would return by the late evening. Lorian and his mother escorted the Knight to the edge of town, where the forest to the West began to encroach upon their modest civilization. Lorian watched with fascination as Sir Levi grabbed a handful of Litya’s white mane, taking a swift step before vaulting up, throwing one leg over her back. He landed lightly behind her withers, the unicorn unfazed by the sudden movement nor the tug at her mane. Lorian regarded the pair as they disappeared into the forest, Sir Levi unsheathing the sword at his side just as the thick foliage eclipsed them- a flash of silver before they vanished into the greenery.

 

Still reeling with the excitement of his experience, Lorian followed his mother back to the inn, and though he endeavored to focus on his studies, his mind wandered continuously back to the forest. After his studies were complete, Lorian waited eagerly on the first floor of the inn, helping his father distributing meals and steins of ale to the few customers who loitered there. His eyes sprang to the door every time he heard it open, but Sir Levi failed to appear.

 

Despite his protests, his mother eventually escorted him back to their home behind the inn, and he was coerced into bed. Sleep evaded him for much of the night, but eventually Lorian woke to morning light, so it must have snuck upon him at some point.

 

He returned back to the inn as soon as he was dressed, and his enthusiasm was rewarded. Sir Levi sat at one of the tables inside, his hair bedraggled but otherwise looking none the worse for wear. A plate of porridge was on the table, and peculiarly, a strange woman was sitting at his side.

 

If Lorian had thought Sir Levi was handsome, then the woman made the Knight unprepossessing in comparison. Her skin was incredibly smooth, almost reflectively so, and her eyes were the colour of the sky if, instead of spread vast across the horizon, it was concentrated into two beautiful pools. Even from afar, he could see how long her lashes were, brushing her cheeks with every flutter. Her lips were plump, dark as if stained by cherries. But most extraordinary was her stark white hair, which fell in loose waves over her shoulders.

 

“It’s rude to stare,” a voice admonished from behind him.

 

Lorian jumped, turning to see his mother in the doorway. Her hand on his shoulder, she ushered him upstairs, but not before Lorian stole another glance at the couple. They were sitting very close, their shoulders touching, and the woman’s hand rested comfortably on Sir Levi’s thigh. The sight sent a trembling excitement through him, though Lorian wasn’t sure why.

 

At the behest of his mother, he strove to focus on his daily readings. Much to his dismay, when he ventured down to the first floor under the guise of grabbing a drink of water, both Sir Levi and the mysterious woman were gone.

Later in the evening, as Lorian again aided his father with managing the dinner crowd, the pair reappeared arm-in-arm. In contrast to this morning, both looked worn; with alarm, Lorian noticed a small wound sliced the woman’s cheek, though the blood around it was crusted. Sir Levi’s armor was battered, no longer glossy but dusted with dirt; a deep gouge carved through the leather on his right thigh.

 

His father immediately dropped the tray he was holding onto the nearest table and leapt to their aid.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked in a hurried whispered.

 

Sir Levi cracked a tired smile.

 

“Yes, quite alright; just a little weary. If it would be possible to have a bath pulled for the both of us, we’d be most appreciative.”

 

With Lorian’s help, his father brought up several buckets to fill the scarcely used bath on the second floor; in the meantime, Sir Levi and the woman grabbed a stein each and set to work finishing them. When the bath was ready, his father called to them, and Lorian ogled as the two of them disappeared into the bathroom together. He wondered whether they would be undressing in front of one another- a thought which made it feel like his stomach was turning over.

 

Attempting to evacuate those thoughts, he spent the rest of the evening running drinks with his father. The last hour before bedtime was particularly quiet; the house was empty. Grabbing a book from his mother’s library on the second floor, Lorian took residence at a downstairs table so he could keep an eye on the inn while his father cleaned the kitchen in the back.

 

Lorian’s attention was wrested from his book by footsteps descending the stairs. Sir Levi and the woman emerged from upstairs, now looking refreshed. Sir Levi’s armor was oiled again, his hair wet but neatly combed. The woman’s hair was tied loosely in a braid down her back, and the dried blood on her cheek was gone, leaving a thin cut that failed to detract from her beauty.

 

“Is it still possible to get a warm meal?” Sir Levi inquired.

 

Lorian jumped to his feet.

 

“Yeah, let me just get my father,” he announced, maneuvering toward the kitchen.

 

Sir Levi’s hand steadied on his shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Lorian could feel the roughness and strength in that hand.

 

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll go see him,” he explained, and before Lorian could protest, the Knight was disappearing through the door to the kitchen.

 

Now, he was alone with the woman. His cheeks were starting to burn, even more so when he looked up to see her smiling down at him. He gave a nervous swallow, though his mouth felt desert dry. Afraid of the silence stretching between them, he racked his mind for something to say.

 

“My name is Lorian,” he finally offered.

 

“I know,” she responded with a soft nod of her head.

 

Confused, Lorian asked, “Have we met before?”

 

She laughed, a gentle sound like distant windchimes.

 

“You don’t recognize me?”

 

Lorian shook his head. He knew every person in town, if not by name then by their face. And never in his life had he been exposed to someone so beautiful, nor had he ever seen a human with such unnaturally white hair, excluding the withered, thin strands that sat on the head of the aged. It was clear the years played no factor in the woman’s hair, which was thick and shiny.

 

With graceful steps, she closed the distance between them. She leaned over, reaching until her hand rested on Lorian’s, fingers brushing, waggling over his own.

 

“It’s me, Litya.”

 

\----------

 

The morning began with the sonorous clanging of bells; it was the type of music that reverberated in the bones, wrenching the Initiates from sleep. They dressed quickly with trembling fingers. Pale breeches were tugged on; feet shoved into knee-high boots, the leather of which was unnaturally white. As Lorian buttoned the last of his tunic, he followed his classmates, who were congregating to the right of the door. Though he couldn’t see over the crowd to the posted schedule, nervous murmurs echoed back toward him.

 

He placed a hand on Kova’s shoulder, leveraging himself to try to peer over her head.

 

“What’s going on?” he questioned.

 

Through his fingertips, he could feel Kova’s body grow taut.

 

“The Knighting Ceremony,” she gulped. “It’s right after breakfast.”

 

Ice surged through Lorian’s veins. He’d witnessed the last Knighting Ceremony three years ago, when he was a fresh Recruit, having just arrived to High Castle that morning with not even time to unpack his meager belongings. It was a graduation of sorts- though the transition from Recruit to Initiate was only the first step of their education. It officially ended their life as civilians and marked the beginning of their Knighthood; it was also when they took their Oaths, swearing fealty to their country and the fight against evil. But on his first day in High Castle, the impression that had embedded in Lorian’s mind was that the ceremony was redolent of a marriage- a Knight’s promise to forever protect and cherish his Steed.

 

They all hastened to the mess hall, which was already bustling with Knights and Steeds of varying rank and stature. A layman would have had difficulty discerning human from unicorn, but recognizing the differences had become second nature to Lorian. Their uniforms were similar- entirely white with a tunic buttoned up to the chin, only the length of the garment differentiating men and women. But unicorns’ uniforms always had an iridescent quality to the fabric, the thread shining gold when hit by sunlight; the clothing had to be enchanted to allow for their seamless transformation. Putting uniforms aside, unicorns were differentiated from humans by their hair- so light in colour it was nearly luminescent. And much like the legend of elvish kind, unicorns had a fey beauty to them; in comparison to their human companions, a Steed easily eclipsed their Knight.

 

His class grabbed plates and loaded them with offerings from a long buffet. Breakfast cuisine was typically light- sliced fruits, thin porridges, fluffy breads baked with nuts at their core. Though Lorian knew he would need strength for the day, it felt like a band had constricted around his stomach; he half-heartedly grabbed a few slices of citrus.

 

When he turned toward the table situated by the front door, where his class had dined nearly every day for the last three years, he balked; it was already occupied by a small cluster of people he did not recognize. In contrast to the Knights in their crisp uniforms, the mottled greys and black of their assorted garbs seemed an affront to order. But then Lorian noticed their young faces, the nervous flicker of their wide eyes; the new class of Recruits must have arrived earlier that morning.

 

“This way,” Kova’s voice called to him, and Lorian turned to find his class having adopted a new table cohabited with more senior Knights. Kova gave him a nervous wave, hip-to-hip with a Legionnaire, whose rank was only identifiable by three silver medallions pinned along his left shoulder.

 

Lorian collapsed into the seat beside Kova. She seemed to have little misgivings about the upcoming ceremony as she devoured her breakfast with gusto. In comparison, Lorian couldn’t stomach lifting his food off the plate.

 

From the Knighting Ceremony three years before, Lorian knew that the unicorns would be in human form during the proceedings; they, too, would need to recite the oath that would bind them permanently to the Light Guard.

 

The image of Killian as he was last night burned into his mind- black coat, slender body, a shimmering, inky mane and tail. Somehow, Lorian found it more palatable to imagine Killian as a unicorn than as a human; the obvious difference of their species maintained a comfortable dissociation that allowed him to forget that they were both men- ironic since in his Origin form Killian’s ‘maleness’ was far more prominent and unobscured by the civility of clothing. Though he should have been excited about this moment- finally being accepted as a Knight of the Light Guard, a title toward which he’d strived for the last eight years- Lorian could only dread what his reaction would be seeing Killian no longer as beast but as a man. The idea was tearing holes in his stomach and appetite.

 

When breakfast was finished, he joined his classmates as they headed toward the First Amphitheatre, where the ceremony was to be held. It was located just behind the central courtyard where Lady Alta had met them the night before. Its entrance was a grandiose archway with intricately carved unicorns, phoenixes, griffins, and dragons encircling one another.

 

When they arrived, Lady Alta was again waiting for them, wearing her usual serene smile. Gaibor stood next to her, now in human form. Where as age had softened Lady Alta’s features, creating gentle laugh lines and a plumpness to her body, the years had turned Gaibor into a hard and chiseled man. His crows’ feet were sharp, and his lips was a harsh, thin line across his face, accentuated by a clenched square jaw. Despite this, they made a handsome pair.

 

“Welcome, Initiates,” she greeted cheerily, the words still eliciting a shiver of excitement from the gathering group. “Follow me.”

 

Taking a right past the Amphitheatre entrance, she led the class away from the door which lead to the central arena; instead, she opened a much smaller door leading to a narrow wing. Though they’d never been in this area before, they knew from observation that it led to dressing rooms; throughout the year, the First Amphitheatre was home to numerous shows and competitions, designed to keep the Light Guard in fighting shape when soldiers were more numerous than threats, and it was into these back rooms that contestants disappeared before they emerged in the arena.

 

Lady Alta stopped at one of the many doors, ushering them inside. The room’s rightmost wall was composed of full-length mirrors; the other side housed several dressers, whose open doors revealed rows of white leather armor. Even as Lady Alta spoke, every Initiate’s eyes were riveted on the armor, excitement bubbling inside them.

 

“We expect you to be dressed and ready to start the ceremony in thirty minutes,” she announced with a sweeping hand toward the awaiting wardrobes.

 

Following a brief lecture on the proceedings for the Ceremony, she gave them all an enthusiastic “Good luck!”, and with a stern bow from Gaibor, the pair departed, leaving the Initiates alone in the dressing room.

 

They dressed in relative silence, tightening and buckling straps. Twice, Lorian had to take off a piece of the armor because he’d managed to put an arm or a leg piece on upside down, but eventually he stood in front of one of the mirrors, beaming at the image that greeted him. Since he’d arrived three years ago, he’d watched his reflection slowly morph from a scrappy teenager to a stalwart soldier. He’d grown almost six inches, and now only Rylan and Lorelai, one of the six girls of the class, were taller.

 

A large hand fell to his shoulder, making him flinch, and through the mirror’s reflection he could see Rylan standing behind him with a grin too wide to be sincere.

 

“You don’t look half bad for a commoner,” he quipped.

 

Lorian scowled back at Rylan’s dark-haired reflection. Three years of his constant galling had worn Lorian’s patience paper-thin, and he savored the day when they were inevitably assigned to different stations, preferably on opposite sides of the country. Lorian had tried a dozen different approaches to dissuade Rylan’s constant jabs; he’d tried being polite, terse, vitriolic, or ignoring him all together, but for all his efforts, Rylan never lost interest. Eventually, Lorian had given up entirely on being witty or aptly defending himself.

 

“Shut up, Rylan,” he barked, turning away and marching to the other side of the room, though not before spotting the twinkle of pleasure in his rival’s eye.

 

He chose to insert himself in the small circle in which Kova was chattering now that everyone had successfully adorned their armor. To Kova’s right was her roommate, Traena- a diminutive woman who was as beautiful as she was incompetent. She tried earnestly, but it was as if the Gods had granted her feet where her hands were meant to be; had she not come from a long line of Light Guards, Lorian doubted she would have made it to the Knighting Ceremony. On Kova’s left was Lockhart, who like Traena had blood rich with Light Guard heritage, but who had relative competence both in the saddle and with a blade; unlike Traena, he never labored to rise above his current station, and his lackadaisical attitude meant that despite the potential for greatness, he had always ranked squarely in the middle of their class.

 

As Lorian stepped into the group, a sudden quiet fell around them. Unease twisted like a snake in his gut.

 

“Are you all as nervous as I am?” he prodded, the inanity of his question reflective of the compulsive need to fill the growing silence prompted by his arrival.

 

Kova broke the tension with a chuckle.

 

“Terrified,” she confirmed.

 

Lockhart leaned forward.

 

“So are you going to tell us about your Steed,” he interjected.

 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Kova’s nose wrinkle, eyes shooting an accusatory look to Lockhart. Anxiety winding tighter, Lorian wondered whether the sudden quiet upon his arrival was because he’d been the subject of their former conversation. Was his unicorn really that much of a talking point? It was true that Lorian had never seen nor heard rumor of an adult unicorn with a black coat, nor had he ever seen a same-sex pair, but Lorian had also not seen more than three Knights in his life prior to being accepted into the Light Guard Academy. Surely Traena and Lockhart, who had spent their childhoods surrounded by Knights and immersed in their ancient tales, had heard of such a coupling before.

 

“Um, well,” he bumbled, feeling his ears begin to burn. “I don’t really know much. His name is Killian, I guess.”

 

The three other initiates were still staring intently at him, as if expecting him to elaborate, but Lorian truly had no other knowledge to share.

 

“What about yours?” Lorian deflected.

 

Another beat of silence, before Kova mercifully took the torch.

 

“My Steed’s name is Cline,” she interjected, though the way in which her gaze focused only on Lorian made him think this was a rehashing of information for the rest of the group. “We weren’t able to talk much last night, but he seemed really sweet.”

 

“You were able to telepath with him already?” Lorian enquired incredulously.

 

“Oh, not much at all!” Kova corrected with her usual modesty. “I could only hear a few words, you know- just normal stuff.”

 

Lorian was aware that telepathy was a slowly developed talent between Knight and Steed. While an experienced pair could have seamless conversations from across the room, he was educated enough that he knew it was not an innate talent but one that needed cultivation. Because of this, he’d been unperturbed by the near silence between Killian and himself on the previous night. Now he worried that the silence was indicative of an inherent incompatibility between them.

 

The thoughts tumbling through Lorian’s head were loud enough to drone out the conversation around him. He was faintly perceptive of Lockhart’s continued glances in his direction, but he chose to ignore them and remain a passive bystander to the group’s idle chatter.

 

Eventually, there was a knock on the dressing room door, and Lady Alta swept inside while Gaibor waited in the doorframe.

 

“It’s time, everyone,” she announced. “Follow me.”

 

They returned to the hallway, which continued to curve around the outer edge of the Amphitheatre. Now that they were marching at a decent clip, the stiffness of the new armor was more evident; it was difficult to bend his torso or joints, and around his knees and armpits, the hard leather chafed his skin. Surprisingly, the discomfort was a welcome distraction- a sharp bite cutting through his nerves.

 

They stopped as they reached a floor-to-ceiling curtain- the last barrier before they were thrust on the Amphitheatre stage. From behind the thick curtain, they could hear the distant hum of a chattering crowd, the sound vibrant with the sort of easy excitement that came from an audience and not the nervous, flittering energy that had settled in Lorian and the rest of his class.

 

A loud. unseen voice on the other side of the curtain broke through the chatter, causing an instant blanket of quiet to fall on the waiting crowd.

 

“Welcome!” rang a man’s voice, and Lorian recognized the deep, bellowing baritone of General Tullius, the Light Guard Academy’s Headmaster. “We thank you all for coming today, to commemorate and honor our new Initiates as they take their final step to becoming Knights. They have toiled for three years to reach this day, and we are immensely proud of their perseverance and dedication.

 

“Even as Recruits, they have shown unwavering loyalty to Galar and to the continuing fight against the forces of darkness, an evil which constantly threatens to encroach upon our nation.

 

“And last night, we were fortunate enough to have thirteen Steeds join our ranks, committing their light to our forces and their souls to our Initiates.

 

“We look forward to seeing the unity grow between Knight and Steed, and we await the triumphs that their bonds shall bring. Long live the nation of Galar!”

 

The sound of applause erupted across the stadium; even behind the curtain, Lorian could feel the deep reverberation of hundreds of feet pounding against stone floor. Like a frantic drumbeat, it prodded the frantic flutter of his heart.

 

“Now, let’s welcome the first of our Initiates,” General Tullius continued once the applause died down. “Rylan Demarcus, please come to the stage.”

 

Something shoved him hard enough to throw him off balance. Lorian cursed softly under his breath as Rylan shouldered past, casting a twisted smile behind his shoulder before disappearing behind the curtain. Before the veil fully closed behind Rylan, Lorian got a flash of the stage. Like most of High Castle, it was crafted from white marble; at its center stood General Tullius, handsome despite the grey creeping along his temples, interweaving with flax blonde hair.

 

Lorian listened idly as Rylan’s ceremony commenced. Rylan recited his oath with practiced confidence, voice strong and booming. Dali was called to come forward, though the unicorns must have been appearing from the other side of the stage, because soon he heard a deep but feminine voice, rich with a bravado that rivaled Rylan’s, reciting an oath similar but not identical to the Knights Oath. Raucous applause followed.

 

“Lorian Ecklestia, please come to the stage.”

 

The words shot through him like an arrow. For half a second, he thought his feet were going to remain glued to the floor. But the fire of his determination thawed his trepidations. For that moment, he forgot about having to meet Killian on the stage; all he remembered was the moment, eight years earlier, when he’d met Levi Demarcus and been awed by his presence and the beautiful creature that served by his side. He recalled the years of sweat, the countless tears and bruises and abrasions, that had brought him to this moment. He reminisced on the long nights of studying when his eyelids desperately wanted to fall but sheer determination compelled him awake. He wanted this more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

 

Lorian held the curtain aside and stepped out into the Amphitheatre. General Tullius still stood with shoulders erect on center stage. Rylan and Dali stood to one side, their hands intertwined. Movement from across the stage caught his gaze, and from the curtains that shielded the leftmost side of the stage, a small figure emerged.

 

Lorian had grown accustomed to beauty; his studies had surrounded him with dozens of unicorns who, in human form, were dazzling enough to make an artist weep. But in comparison to Killian, they were plain; he was the most stunning person that Lorian had ever seen.

 

Even from a distance, he could see that Killian was about hand shorter than him, and though his frame was slight, he had wide, sharp shoulders. Black hair cascaded down around his face, lapping at his collarbones. He had large, dewy golden eyes layered behind thick eyelashes. His face was heart-shaped, with prominent cheekbones sloping down to gently concave cheeks, a sharp jaw, and a pointed chin. His lips, though slightly thin, were shapely and slightly parted, revealing the seductive flash of a pink tongue. The blush that spread across Lorian’s face felt like fire.

 

As Lorian and Killian walked across the stage, meeting in the middle to flank General Tullius, an unnatural hush fell on the crowd. Gone was the distant buzz of background conversations; every lip in the audience was sealed shut. The silence was palpable and thick.

 

“Lorian Ecklestian, do you pledge your life to the Republic of Galar?”

 

Lorian cleared his throat, giving a resolute nod.

 

“I pledge my life to the Republic of Galar,” he declared, forcing the words out from deep in his gut. “ I will give every day to the fight against darkness and the protection of the innocent. Even with my dying breath, I swear allegiance to the tenets of righteousness and mercy. And I offer my soul to my Steed; may our strength, together, guide us to victory.”

 

General Tullius nodded, granting Lorian a small smile that bespoke of his general pride for the Initiates under his charge; despite this, Lorian couldn’t help but notice the small dip in the General’s blonde brows, the slight wrinkle bridging between them. The stage was beginning to feel unbearably hot.

 

“Killian, do you pledge your life to the protection of humanity?”

 

Lorian turned again to the unicorn that stood across from him. His head swam when he thought of this boy as the same creature that he had touched the night before. Both were incredibly beautiful, though in strikingly different ways. Yet as much as the two forms differed, Lorian knew inexplicably they were one and the same, the way one could recognize a man from his profile or front, though both silhouettes were naturally different.

 

“I pledge my life and my soul to the protection of humanity,” Killian began; his voice was deeper than Lorian expected from a man his size, but it was still smooth like honey. “I will give every day to the fight against darkness and the protection of the innocent. Even with my dying breath, I swear allegiance to the tenets of righteousness and mercy. I offer my soul to my Knight, and with it, I give my strength so that we may be victorious over evil.”

 

The silence that had previously plagued the crowd had broke. Hurried whispers combined to a crescendo. Lorian glanced out of the corner of his eyes toward the Amphitheatre seats. The closest rows were filled with people wearing a multitude of bright colors; they must have been civilians from High Castle. As the rows climbed higher, more and more white overtook the crowd. But no matter what position or color, everyone appeared to be clustered in small huddles with one another, either as a couples or small groups, heads leaning close as if conspiring.

 

Though Lorian told himself that the perceived hostility from the crowd was his own ludicrous paranoia, he couldn’t quite believe the sentiment.

 

General Tullius was unflustered by the commotion, opening the dark case that was clasped in his hand. From it, he retrieved two silver medallions, handing one first to Lorian and then to Killian; he stepped back, leaving nothing but space between them.

 

Hoping he could imitate General Tullius’ unflappable composure, Lorian took a wobbling step and closed half the distance between himself and his Steed; Killian traversed the remainder, his movements more assured, his shoulders back and his chin held high, even as his brows furrowed and color crept across his cheeks.

 

Pushing through his burgeoning worries, Lorian reached out with silver medallion in hand, fumbling for a moment before managing to fasten the metal on top of Killian’s left shoulder. Once his arms returned to his side, Killian reciprocated, securing the insignia into a thin hole in the shoulder of his armor. They paused, gazes meeting.

 

Killian’s eyes were staring intently into him, unwavering in their intensity; it made Lorian feel like his soul was being scoured. The fire he’d seen in Killian’s eyes the night before was back, its intensity making him fear his lashes would be singed. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. The crowd around them vanished. General Tullius, standing behind them, faded into obscurity.

 

All at once, it felt as though he was tumbling forward, falling into the inconceivable depths of Killian’s eyes. It was as if he was looking at Killian while simultaneously staring at his own reflection. Killian’s limbs felt like his own; he could feel the beating of the boy’s heart in his chest, the flutter of his breath caught in his throat. But above all else, it was Killian’s emotions which burned like hot iron in his gut.

 

Shame. It lashed ruthlessly at his skin but left its scorching marks on his pride. Killian was ashamed of him, ashamed of the murmurings of the crowd which hissed like vipers in his ears, ashamed of himself for being here, helpless to do anything to change his circumstances.

 

With a gasp, Lorian ripped himself away, and he was once again just a single man, standing on a bright stage with Killian’s body separate and so far away. The unicorn’s eyes were wide.

 

How long had they been standing there? Did Killian know what Lorian had just felt? Had Killian been able to feel the emotions that Lorian himself was harbouring?

 

A weight fell on his shoulder, and Lorian’s head whipped to the side to see General Tullius, who had stepped forward to place a hand on his and Killian’s shoulder. The gentle pressure of his touch urged them both to the side of the stage. Silently, they took up stance next to Rylan and Dali- the latter of which he noted now as a tall, handsome woman with an aquiline nose, sharp green eyes, bright white hair. _The color a unicorn’s hair is supposed to be_ , Lorian thought to himself, even as guilt lanced through him for the viciousness of the spurn, no matter if it went unheard.

 

Lorian’s gaze caught on Rylan and Dali’s hands, grasped tightly together; Dali’s thumb was stroking gently across her Knight’s skin. Graceful, satisfied smiles painted both of their expressions. Jealousy hit Lorian like a fist.

 

He looked down to his left, where Killian had taken up stance. The other’s hands were clenched tight enough to blanch his knuckles, and Lorian didn’t dare bridge the gap to attempt a similar display of affection- for a multitude of reasons.

 

Prior to that moment, Lorian had acknowledged to himself that he was embarrassed by their predicament; he’d spent half his life expecting to be bonded with a woman, and the consternation he’d felt upon meeting Killian had sat like a stone in his stomach all night. Yet he’d assumed that Killian had chosen him because the unicorn harboured a desire to be with him; it had not occurred to him that Killian could reciprocate his dissatisfaction. Yet rather than feeling relief about their shared discontent, Lorian found that Killian’s shame felt like a hammer of rejection.

 

Regardless of the turmoil in his heart, the ceremony continued. After the next Initiate in his class was called onto stage- Mars, a girl that was most notable by how unassuming she was- the drone from the crowd settled. Despite this, Lorian couldn’t shake the feeling that an inordinate amount of the audience had eyes on Killian and him. Of course, he told himself, that idea was ludicrous; from this distance, there was no way to tell where the crowd’s attention was focused. Nonetheless, Lorian’s skin continued to prickle, the hair on the back of his neck raising. Killian fared little better; the tension of his body was taut enough to traverse the space between them.

 

They remained on stage until the entirety of the class had recited their oaths, all twenty-six now standing in a long line that wrapped around the back of the stage.

 

General Tullius offered a few closing remarks, thanking the crowd once more for joining him in welcoming the new Initiates. Everyone on stage gave a collective salute, and then the Initiates bowed off stage.

 

Once past the obscuration of the curtains, a deep voice called Lorian’s name. He turned to find General Tullius behind him, his expression unusually dour.

 

“Before you head to your first lesson, I’d appreciate it if you and Killian met me in my office; there’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” he stated. “I suggest you get changed out of your armor first so you can go directly to your lesson after.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he gulped, and Killian voiced the same affirmative.

 

Lady Alta was already meeting the group, rounding them up as she reminded them of the remaining schedule of the day; they were to meet at the practice arena in twenty minutes with Knights out of their armor and Steeds in Origin form.

 

Lorian barely heard her voice; the sound of blood rushing in his ear was like a waterfall. What could General Tullius need to say that could only be spoken in private?


End file.
